Reaped
by Aventine Hill
Summary: Some faced the day with dread, others with glee. But in the end, each and every tribute, voluntarily or not, is reaped.


So. The other day (actually about a month ago now) I got bit by a plot bunny to write about the reapings of the contestants for the 74th Hunger Games, which turned into a series of drabble-oneshot hybrids that are too short to be the latter and a bit too long to be the former, henceforth refered to as drabbleshots. That's about all I'm sure about so far; I don't think I'll cover each and every tribute from the 74th Hunger Games as many of them have no defining characteristics and so they'd basically be OCs. I've also debated covering the reapings of other tributes as mentioned in Catching Fire, but that much is unsure right now, although readers are allowed to weigh in on the subject if they would like. I'd like to thank **HallowedHallsofWriting**, aka Juliet, for agreeing to be my beta for the duration of this story, and I present to you, with no further ado:

**Reaped**

**By Aventine Hill**

* * *

This year was _the _year, she knew it. Because this time no one would stand in her way.

All of this was supposed to have occurred twelve months ago, at the reaping for the 73rd Hunger Games, but her mother insisted fourteen was too young. "I will not have incorrect time ruin sixteen years of planning!" she had shrieked, and Glimmer begrudgingly agreed. Her parents had been planning their oldest, and, as it turned out, only child's success in the Hunger Games since two years before she was even born. And by this point they were completely and totally unwilling to begin the process over again with a new child. Making sure she would win had become an obsession for them, and caused her to question their sanity on more than one occasion, not that she voiced this opinion. Of course, Glimmer was also not so willing to die because of some foolish mistake like going into the arena unprepared, and so she had agreed to wait until the next year to volunteer herself.

The year-long wait was, for her, agonizingly long and dreadfully boring. Nevertheless, the future tribute endured an extra year of training and gleaned all of the knowledge she could from the experience. The next time May rolled around, she knew, or, more appropriately, thought, she was ready to go into the Games and face whatever the Capitol had dreamt up for her to fight, and that against it she would come out the champion. But no one is ever ready for the Hunger Games; there are too many different things that could happen, a fact she was quite oblivious to, not that she was the first. Glimmer bid farewell to everyone and everything familiar before she went to the reaping, she was so certain of her success. Because in District One the tributes that go into the arena are in no way chosen by whose name comes out of the reaping ball; whoever is chosen to represent them is, in all probability, whoever was able to raise their hand fast enough to be the first to volunteer.

She savors the walk to the square, thinking this will be the last time for quite a few weeks that she will walk these streets and that the next time she is able to do so will be as a victor, the thought never once crossing her mind that she might possibly die. After all, this was essentially the purpose of her life. Go to the Hunger Games. Win at all costs. And then spend the rest of her life being pampered and not having to work for anything, like those in the Capitol did.

Glimmer slides into her place next to all of the other fifteen-year-olds, her face proudly displaying a confident smile for all of District One to see. Others may be thinking of volunteering themselves, but she knows for a fact that this year the female tribute from their district will be _her_, no matter what, because there was no way she was willing to delay her glory days any longer. The others could wait, because now was her time.

They pick a slip, call a name. As to what the name is, she has no idea; because the only thing that the blonde is focused on right now is the moment they call for volunteers. And the exact second that the last syllable is spoken Glimmer's hand is in the air, followed closely by those of at least a dozen others. But hers was the _first_, she is sure of it. Everyone in the square witnessed it, and, one-by-one, each of the others lowers their hands, signaling that they have admitted that in this case she had won, and that they have been defeated in the race to volunteer. Defeated by her. The snarky voice in the back of her head, the one that is so sure she'll win that it makes sure she has never questioned if she'll lose, adds in: _And they won't be the first. _Because in Glimmer's mind each and every tribute may try as hard as they can, but they'll all fall short compared to her.

A smirk spreads across the blonde's face now. Right here, right now, this exact moment, marks the beginning of her success. She makes her way up to the stage, tells them her name. Then the male tribute is picked, and they are taken to the Justice Building for final goodbyes, goodbyes she has already made. Glimmer casts one last look at the crowd and she is absolutely sure that the next time she stands in front of all of District One like this, she'll do so as victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, not even bothering to consider that she may not make it back.

* * *

Never once did Glimmer question her parents' assumption that she would win. She never got the chance, as they made sure their daughter grew up in a metaphorical protective bubble, so great was their obsession for her to win. Try as she might, Glimmer wasn't meant for the Games. And so she joined the other tributes that have fallen victim to the Capitol's cruel interpretation of entertainment.

* * *

_Fin_

I did bother to ask around quite a bit and people seem to agree that it's most likely each of the Careers, or at the very least most of them, volunteered to be in the Games, if anyone was wondering about that. Reviews are _very _much appreciated. *loves reviews*

-Ave


End file.
